


nightmare eyes.

by Coloured_Rainbow



Series: TPI Fanfictions [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Brief descriptions of soul sex i guess but its all for Da Plot, F/M, Resets, all based off of The Party Incident so, it wont make sense if you havent read that, the reader paints!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-09-30 11:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17223530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coloured_Rainbow/pseuds/Coloured_Rainbow
Summary: It didn’t start out as that big of a deal. Nightmares, that’s all it was. At first, you simply woke up in a cold sweat after a skeleton monster approached you and tightly squeezed your hand. He held it so tightly and looked up at you with empty eye sockets and the last thing you saw before you woke up was blue.That was it....Until it wasn’t.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Party Incident and Other Embarrassing Anecdotes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5798113) by [poubelle_squelette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poubelle_squelette/pseuds/poubelle_squelette). 



> OKAY HEAR ME OUT.  
> IM SO SORRY. FUCK. I HAVE SO MANY STORIES I NEED TO FINISH I KNOWOOWOW UGH IM SORRY.  
> I'm working on it,,,, my attention shifts very quickly im sorry. I have stuff written for Sweet, Sweet Victory and hope to have it out soon.  
> My apologies ;-;  
> (We'll see if I can not get carried away and just keep it at 3 chapters........)

It didn’t start out as that big of a deal. Nightmares, that’s all it was. Vivid nightmares, but subconscious thoughts nonetheless. At first, you simply woke up in a cold sweat after a skeleton monster approached you and tightly squeezed your hand. He held your hand so tightly and looked up at you with empty eye sockets and the last thing you saw before you woke up was blue.

That was it.

…

Until it wasn’t.

Until a few weeks later, he came to you again. At the start of the dream, you attended a party full of monsters. You know that you didn’t belong, but you still danced and talked like you were in fact the host. It wasn’t long before your fun was interrupted by _him_ \--by the skeleton. He smirked and mumbled something incoherent and then suddenly you were sitting next to him on a couch. He leaned forward and pressed his teeth against your lips in what seemed to be a terrible attempt at a kiss. You laughed and covered your face in embarrassment because now you were sitting on his lap and he was dressed like Santa. The situation was so ridiculous, but you could tell that you’d definitely been in a worse spot. 

That time, you woke up gasping for breath. 

Again, you brushed it off. You figured that it must have something to do with monsters coming to the surface not too long ago, although you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why; sure, you were surprised by their arrival, but you didn’t feel any negativity towards them. You weren’t sure why your thoughts about them would manifest as nightmares. 

Then a big one hit. A nightmare that shook you to your very core and left you still in your bed for hours after it transpired. 

You were on your bed and he was in front of you. His name was on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t find it, despite having felt that you’d known this skeleton for years. 

You were in love with him. 

You smiled as he leaned forward and stroked your suddenly naked body, pressing a hand against your chest to reveal your soul. He looked hesitant, but you nodded. After a few agonizing seconds of silence, his hands were wrapped around your soul and suddenly you _were_ him. Well, not exactly. You were still yourself, but the skeleton’s essence completely surrounded you. Every inch of your exposed body was drenched in his being and you fucking loved it. 

Then the dream collapsed around you and harsh reality hit like a whip, beating you awake so violently that you couldn’t help the blood-curdling scream that came tearing out of your throat. Tears were already streaming down your face and your body was pinning itself down to the bed for dear life and you screamed and kept screaming until your voice decided to finally give out. After you caught your breath, you sat in your bed in silence for hours, occasionally crying when you thought about the dream too much. 

That was when you realized that this… might be a problem. 

You went to school as usual, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pay attention. You kept thinking about your soul and how the skeleton’s thin phalanges pressed into it. Managing to open your laptop without the professor noticing, you trying looking up different dream meanings in hope of finding some cheap clarity. To your surprise, you managed to find an article on monster magic.

Souls. Huh.

More frequently, you found yourself researching up on souls and magic and how exactly that all worked. In between your studies, you would listen to music and find yourself sketching out the skeleton’s figure. At first, the sketches were vague: black eye sockets, a grey hoodie, a blue eye. The more you thought about him and the more you researched, the clearer the image became. 

For the first time in a long time, you were stuck with an inspiration so strong, you couldn’t help but draw him at least twenty times a day. First pencil sketches, then more detailed drawings with pen outline, then you started colouring. The more dreams you had, the more intricate the drawings became.

You getting drunk and arriving at his doorstep: a full picture filled in with coloured pencil.

Him and you going on a television show for an interview: a watercolour painting.

You approaching him in his bed in the middle of the night: a full blown oil painting on a four foot, hundred dollar canvas. 

The context of the dreams were vague enough to classify the paintings as abstract, but they made perfect sense to you. Every painting was monochromatic and you were sure that Michael’s was concerned at the sheer amount of blue paint you were purchasing every week. At a certain point you were tempted to make a mural and you had been talking to your friend about it. They had become quite fond of your choice in art style (although they had no idea why you liked skeletons so much, especially this character that you had supposedly made up), and gladly listened to you rant about ideas. They had voiced their concern before about how much money you were spending on this hobby and encouraged you to take it to the public, maybe even just starting with a website and a pay-pal, but you quickly turned that down. Everything about these paintings seemed all too personal to share with just anybody--most of them you hadn’t even shone this friend yet. 

And well, that brings you to more current events: your friend excitedly telling you that they took one of your paintings to a gallery and people loved it. After people voiced that they would like to know more, your friend took pictures of your collection. Within hours, people fell in love with your haunting style and fascination with this monster. And now, after getting in a fight with your friend and deciding to not talk to them again after this and months of non-stop harassment from the media and the quickly growing popularity of your pictures, you found yourself the center of attention at an auction.

An auction where you just sold one of your more popular paintings for ten. Thousand. Fucking. Dollars. 

...

It didn’t start out as that big of a deal, but it sure as hell didn’t end that way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he first settled into the surface, Sans would hear humans complain in passing about how “there’s nothing to watch,” and that just amazed him; years later, however, Sans was sinking into the couch and mindlessly flipping through channels and finally understood what they meant: hundreds of thousands of channels and yet nothing was really catching his eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god, writing sans is a b i t c h. forgive me, im a few months out of practice.

Out of everything that changed with monsters coming to the surface, one thing that never changed was Sans’ love of staying inside and watching tv. Yeah, of course, he loves the sky and the outdoors and always makes sure that a window is open so he can breathe in the fresh air, but he couldn’t help being excited at just how much television shows and movies that the overground had accumulated. Every once in a while he’d hear a human complain in passing about how “there’s nothing to watch,” and that just amazed him; back in the underground, you took what you could get. Sure, monsters made movies too, but there wasn’t exactly a wide variety (Mettaton being the only really serious full-time actor). Up here, there were not only thousands, but _hundreds_ of thousands, even millions of movies and tv series and sitcoms and channels and he would be lying if he didn’t admit he was impressed. Back home, him and Papyrus rewatched the same 15 or 20 movies for literally hundreds of years, so a change in scenery was quite refreshing. 

He did like some of the newer shows--Planet Earth I, Planet Earth II, any David Attenborough docuseries really, the Curse of Oak Island (Papyrus HATES how boring that one is), the Cosmos (that has to be one of his favourites)--but he has to say that he really favours older cheesy shows. Today’s shows have good graphics for learning more about the overground, but the actual ones with any plot are terrible. He fell in love with oldies like Star Trek and Star Wars and Lost in Space and Doctor Who and… well, the pattern there is pretty easy to see. 

When he first came to the surface and everything settled down and they finally got a house and jobs, Sans couldn’t help but be conflicted on whether to go outside or watch tv. Most of the time it ended up being outside because Papyrus would drag him places, but he always made sure he had time to watch something each week. 

Years later, however, Sans was sinking into the couch and mindlessly flipping through channels and finally understood what humans meant when they said there was nothing to watch: hundreds of thousands of channels and yet nothing was really catching his eye. 

“SANS!” Papyrus shouted from the other room, pulling Sans out of his thoughts. “I’M THINKING WE SHOULD GO OUT FOR DINNER TONIGHT!”

“yeah?” he mumbled, clicking the arrow button on the remote in even intervals. “where to?”

“WELL, UNDYNE SAYS SHE’S BEEN MEANING TO GO TO THIS REALLY GOOD RAMEN PLACE, BUT I INSIST WE GO TO OLIVE GARDEN BECAUSE THEY GIVE YOU CRAYONS TO DRAW ON THE TABLE WITH! W-WELL, NOT FOR ME. FOR FRISK, OF COURSE. AND I WILL ACCOMPANY THEM FOR THEIR ENJOYMENT BECAUSE THEY LOVE THAT, BUT YOU KNOW.”

“uh-huh.” Sans nodded, mesmerized in the flipping of images and the snippets of dialogue. 

_Go ahead, make my--_

_\--never even looked back… I knew him for--_

_\--shitty day… well, this kid--_

“EITHER WAY, WE’LL PROBABLY HEAD OUT WITHIN THE NEXT FEW HOURS. I WANTED TO GO SOONER SO I COULD HEAD TO BED EARLIER, GET A GOOD NIGHT’S REST, BUT UNDYNE SAID ALPHYS IS HAVING TROUBLE WITH--”

_Oh my goodness! The progress you’ve made today--_

_\--never listen to him, he’s crazy._

_You don’t understand! I didn’t even see--_

“--BUT I KNOW FRISK LIKES THAT CAFE… MAYBE WE COULD STOP BY AFTER? ALTHOUGH IT WILL BE RATHER LATE BY THEN. I THINK A COMPROMISE IS IN ORDER. I KNOW THIS PLACE OVER BY--”

_Don’t go in there! That’s the--_

_WILSOOOOONNN!!!! WIIIII--_

_Dad, you’re embarrassing me…_

“ALTHOUGH A LITTLE FIRE NEVER HURT ANYONE. EXCEPT UNDYNE, SHE’S VERY SENSITIVE TO FLAMES. MAYBE--OOH, THAT PLACE BY--”

_The wild orca. Watch as they--_

_\--ten thousand dollars! Less than two years ago, this artist wasn’t even--_

_Never in my life have a seen something so--_

Sans paused, flipping back a channel. 

_\--and now she’s definitely showed the world how far you can get from following your heart. She’s explained herself that she isn’t quite sure what compelled her to stick with ‘skeletons’ as a theme, but going with that gut feeling paid off in the end. Multiple YouTubers and online social media fanatics have been theorizing that this artist’s spooky pictations of this blue-eyed character do in fact have hidden meaning, however..._

Tuning out the audio and Papyrus’ rambling, Sans’ gaze fixated on the sample image of a painting in the top left corner of the news channel. He didn’t even need to lean in closer to the screen to recognize the figure this woman was painting-- _it was him._ Unmistakably, without a doubt, it was him: his skull, his sunken in eye sockets, his jacket and slippers, and his goddamn blue eye. It was him. He stared at the screen with a blank expression. Some of the paintings they showcased as the news anchors gushed about this artist were more obscure than others, but they were all him; paintings of him walking in a field of glowing flowers, crossing a bridge, sitting under a tree, standing in the snow.

“what the fuck…?” he whispered to himself, looking around the room as if someone else might be there besides him or his brother. He didn’t know anyone that could paint, let alone so well, and definitely no one that would draw him so much. Was somebody watching him? No, that couldn’t be it. Sans had a very skilled ability to be able to detect souls. He’d know if someone were stalking him… right? It had to be something more. 

Sometimes he gets the feeling that things he’s done have already happened before in a different lifetime or something. He’s always known that there was more to just this universe and this ‘timeline.’ Was it so crazy to think maybe somebody else got the same feelings? Well, this was definitely more than a feeling. Possibly they know why he gets those feelings--maybe they know more than he does. So, what, they can hop between timelines? Or maybe it’s all playing over again and they’re retaining memories of the--

“SANS!” Sans jumped in his seat as Papyrus was suddenly standing in front of him. “ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME? HERE I AM, PRESENTING WONDERFUL DINNER IDEAS, AND YOU’RE SUCKED INTO THE TELEVISION!”

“sorry,” Sans breathed, looking past him. He’d been lost in thought long enough for the news to switch to a new segment about sports. 

“YES, YES,” Papyrus rolled his eyes. “WELL, I GUESS I’LL JUST LEAVE IT UP TO UNDYNE. EITHER WAY, GO GET DRESSED AND WE’LL--”

“actually,” Sans interrupted, clearing his throat. “i think i’ll need to take a raincheck.”

Papyrus squinted. “OH REALLY.”

“not, uh, for tv or anything. i’m actually… going… to… an art show?”

Papyrus paused. “AN ART SHOW.”

“yeah, somethin’ like that,” he added softly. “it’s gonna be really cool and educational.”

After a moment, Papyrus nodded in affirmation, a small smirk forming on his face. “OKAY, WELL I SUPPOSE IT’S NOT THE WORST THING YOU COULD BE ATTENDING. BE SURE TO TAKE PICTURES OF ANYTHING PARTICULARLY ARTSY YOU SEE! AND DON’T HAVE TOO MUCH FUN WITHOUT ME. OR MORE IMPORTANTLY UNDYNE. SHE’LL BE VERY UPSET IF YOU DID SOMETHING TOO MUCH FUN WITHOUT HER.”

“will do.” Sans nervously chuckled as Papyrus walked into the next room, shouting something about needing to head off to look nice for tonight. As soon as he was out of sight, he pulled out his phone and googled “blue skeleton paintings,” and sure enough, there you were. You were a fairly new phenomenon, but you already had a Wikipedia page and hundreds of articles written about you and your art. He looked over some of your art pieces before coming across a picture of your face.

You were a human.

Suddenly uneasy, that kind of confirmed the stalker theory as opposed to him knowing the artist. Maybe you saw him on the street and got a little too excited about his visible anatomy and decided he’d be good drawing practice. Although, from the looks of the dates on your works, you’ve been drawing him for well over a year.

Oh, Sans did _not_ like the feeling that gave him.

How long had you been watching him? Where the fuck where you hiding? Had he talked to you before? Maybe you were a regular at the same place as him or something and you see him everyday, or maybe you hang around his house. Then why didn’t he feel your soul? Human souls are so much stronger and easier to detect.

Whatever this was, he needed to figure it out and fast, before he let his imagination drive himself crazy. His face was famous and selling for, jesus, tens of thousands of dollars. His main goal after coming to the surface and settling in was to lay low in hopes of preventing shit like this happening, but he guessed that humans really did have too weird of a fascination with skeletons.

Looking back at the news articles, you were currently attending more than a few main events at an art convention that took place all through this week… and was held in the same city as where he lived. You were local.

Forcing himself to shove his phone back into his pocket and stand up, he figured he should change his clothes into something more discrete. If he wore the exact same things as he did in your paintings, it might raise some questions.

***********************

You weren’t a fan of crowded areas with lots of people most of the time. Comic-Con was super fun and concerts were awesome when you were in the mood, so you had agreed when a company presented you with the offer to sell your art at a charity convention. You didn’t, however, foresee just how many people would be here. It’s the first, of what people hope is many, annual convention of a charity event they call HCTE, or Humanity Collaborating to Excel. Basically, anybody with a hobby uses that talent to help raise money to go towards the education system in more rural and isolated areas.

After everything happened with your paintings going viral and a dramatic breakup with your friend, you figured you might as well try to do something positive with all of the attention. Now, you’re only on the third day of the week-long event and have already raised almost a hundred thousand dollars. It was a bit overwhelming, you could admit that, but at least you were doing something productive. 

Now, the third day was finally coming to a close and you couldn’t wait to head home. You finished your panel and sold a few more pieces, but they did want you to attend a dinner. Food is food, you guessed. It was better than eating at some fast food place. You still had about an hour until it started, so you’ve been walking around stands in the art section and complimenting people’s work. 

God, this last week had really been hectic. You found yourself having more vivid, violent nightmares about the skeleton than usual. One could guess it was probably because of all the stress about the situation surrounding the paintings, but you haven’t been able to sleep at all properly. It’s at the point where you haven’t made any new art in a while. You find yourself tossing and turning all night and it really takes out any energy you used to have during the day. 

Sighing, you started walking out of the art section and towards the dining hall. There was still a bit of waiting left, but maybe if you got there early you could… get a good seat? You weren’t exactly sure how this was happening, actually. There were so many events going on, that everything kind of jumbled together. 

Approaching the hall, you waved to a few people that recognized you. It was kind of neat to have people know who you were. You hadn’t even been in the spotlight that long and people were already looking up to you. It was very unreal and really you don’t even think it’s sunken in yet. It’s almost like you’ve been in shock these last few weeks, like everything’s a dream. Like you’ve--

Stopping your train of thought, you abruptly halted in place, your eyes trained forward. Frozen in place, you could barely get yourself to breathe.

It was him.

You could tell so much without even so much as a second glance. He was in a different outfit, but it was him. Even with a big, puffy coat and a hat that covered most of his face, you could see just enough of his skull to tell he was a skeleton. Everything about him was so familiar: his stout figure, his walk cycle, his fashion choice. You didn’t even think he was real, just a manifestation of your fears--a metaphor maybe--but no. There he was. He was right there. In front of you. Holding your breath, you looked him over and everything became silent behind the blood rushing in your ears. 

Then he looked up and his white eyes locked onto yours but all you could see was blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahhaha... im excited to write the next chapter :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan was to get in, talk, and then get out, but his curiosity got the better of him. At one point, he dipped into the crowd to get a good look at some of your works. Sans didn’t know much at all about art, but something about your brushstrokes made it seem like you knew how to draw his figure from memory.   
> He didn’t like it at all. Even with his intuition, the scenarios you displayed didn’t seem the least bit familiar. Even looking at you now, really examining your face? ...Still nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HHHH ADDED ANOTHER CHAPTER. If I put the chapters out in longer than like a few pages, it takes me too long ;-; More shorter ones make it seem more manageable rather than like 3 really long ones. This way I can get more content out for you guys quicker.  
> Thank you for all of the nice comments! I'm glad people are invested in the story, because I was very nervous posting it in the first place :')

Your expression wasn’t what he would’ve expected when you first saw him. His eyes immediately locked on to yours and you looked absolutely terrified, your body going stock-still. For some reason he couldn’t exactly pinpoint, something about your expression looked almost… well, he couldn’t exactly describe it. Glad, maybe?

It took him less than an hour to find you. He thought it would be harder, with just how many people had showed up to this event, but most of the people he asked seemed to know your general location: stick to the art section, they said. He wasn’t here for more ten minutes before he found your art, either. It was pretty haunting just seeing it online, but it was a whole different experience seeings his face on display with hundreds of people waiting in line to take pictures. He hid his face under the cap that he wore, and managed to sneak around without gathering any attention. The plan was to get in, talk, and then get out, but his curiosity got the better of him. At one point, he dipped into the crowd to get a good look at some of your works. 

They were very well done. Sans didn’t know much at all about art, but something about your brushstrokes made it seem like you knew how to draw his figure from memory. Most of the paintings hanging showcased him up close, his face the main center of attention. 

He didn’t like it at all. Even with his intuition, the scenarios you displayed didn’t seem the least bit familiar. He really hoped it was something more and that you two could figure this out, because if it wasn’t… well, there was nothing good waiting for him at the end of that road. 

Looking at you now, really examining your face? ...Still nothing. You were right in front of him, and nothing was ringing any bells. He thought that if it wasn’t your face, then it’d be your soul, but no. The waves of your energy flowing toward him seemed strange and foreign and it really wasn’t helping your case. He could, however, very easily detect your energy and how you were feeling: the pure compassion you felt towards him. You were so, so glad to see him. 

After what he realized was too much silence, he cleared his throat. If you felt like this all of the time, there’s no way you could’ve gotten anywhere near him without him noticing. It had to be something more.

You flinched, exclaiming an apology. “I’m sorry, I just… Hi. Hello. You’re real.” 

He paused. “what?” 

You laughed, repenting again. “Sans, I…” Your face fell. “Holy shit, Sans. Your name is Sans.”

***********************

“...the one and only,” he awkwardly chuckled, making you laugh a little bit too hard. You had to physically stop yourself from pulling him into your embrace.

Sans. _Sans_. It felt so good to finally put a name to his face. You don’t know where it came from, but looking at him, you just knew. You smiled, taking a step towards him. You couldn’t wait to talk to him! God, there was so many questions you had for him.

As your foot hit the ground, you watched him take a step back, keeping the gap between you two from getting smaller.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, feeling your face get red. You were probably coming off like a creep. “I’m so sorry. Do you--you know what’s happening, right?”

“uh,” he shrugged, hiding his face under the bill of his cap. “i know that i saw my face all over the tv today. i wanted to find the--find you, so i could see… why.”

Your face fell. “You don’t… You don’t know who I am. Do you?”

He shook his head. “no. so, uh, i’d appreciate if you would stop. i don’t know if you were following me or something, but i don’t really…” His mouth kept moving, but at some point you tuned out the noise. He doesn’t know who you are. That means that you’re just some creep that’s drawn him over a thousand times. He must he that you’re stalking him or something. “--don’t get me wrong, i don’t mind uh--”

“I am so sorry.” You swallowed, trying to force your face to cool down. “This is all a big misunderstanding.”

He paused, a wary look forming on his face. “...really.”

“Yeah! I, uh, see, you came to me in a nightm--a, uh, a dream.” You cleared your throat, unable to keep yourself from speeding up as you spoke. “You came up to me and you held my hand and--and that’s not important. But I had more and more dreams, or I guess visions, of me and you. I had never seen you before in real life, at least I don’t think. I didn’t understand why you were there but you just kept coming and they felt so real and well I’m an artist so I took the opportunity to use that inspiration to come out with some projects and as you can see it worked out really well or uh… I guess not. I just didn’t--see now I think that those were visions and it was real, so I guess we were really in love?” You stopped dead, watching his face fall. “No, no! Did I say…? Haha, I didn’t mean that. We weren’t, well, okay in a lot of them we were kind of kissing--” He flinches, taking a step back, “--I’m! Wait, I’m sorry. It’s not weird or anything like that! I think, I’m not, I’m not crazy I promise, you just have to listen to me and I can explain…” You shut your mouth, forcing the words to stop coming out. 

Fuck, he looked so uncomfortable. You watched his eyes search your face, looking for answers. “look. i wanna give you the benefit of the doubt, but you’re not exactly _painting_ yourself as that pleasant a person.”

You blinked. “Puns. Oh my god, you love puns! I remember! You-You make puns when you’re nervous--well, you always make puns, but… you love jokes.”

He sighed, slightly relaxing. More so than starting to believe you, he looked like he was about to walk off. 

“I’m sorry. I’m--God, I’m really bad at explaining things.” You sniffed, wiping the back of your hand across your nose. “You really don’t have any idea what I’m talking about.”

“no, and i ain’t gonna lie… i’m less than convinced.” He looked off to the side. “just take down the paintings you can, will ya? as long as this dies down in the next month, it’s whatever.”

“I… ah…” You could feel tears forming in your eyes and you did your best to hold them back. This isn’t how you normally act, but you just couldn’t let him leave. You needed to find out who he was. “Please, uh… I know there’s more to this, I know it. I-I can’t be crazy…” 

“look, i--” he started to take a step back. “i’m gonna get outta here.”

“No! Wait!” You yelled a little too loudly, making people passing look in your direction. With everything going on, you forgot you were still in a crowd.

His face scrunched up and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “take ‘em down. and while you’re at it, stop following me.”

“I’m not…! Please just let me explain--!” Without having proper time to think, your hand shot out and tightly gripped his arm, keeping him from leaving.

You flinched when he gasped, freezing in place.

***********************

_”what can i say babe, i’m truly a man of science.”_

_“Babe, hmm?”_

_He smiled. Saying it felt good. It felt right. Of course, Sans couldn’t let a conversation stay serious too long._

_“oh, i forgot. you prefer going by hot mama huh?”_

_You grabbed a pillow and lightly hit him with it. “NO and shut up!”_

_He chuckled, gritting his teeth. “heheheh, make me.” As soon as the words left his teeth, he couldn’t help but look off to the side. He could feel his face get hot in the following seconds of silence. As soon as he could feel an apology about escape his throat, you lunged forward and pinned Sans to the couch with you on top of him._

_In habit, his eye lights shut off for a just a moment. He could feel the biggest, goofiest smile form on his face. God damn it, he was so happy. Just having you there made everything better. You leaned in and pressed your forehead against his and slowly nuzzled. It felt like a big hug to his soul. Sans wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer. It was exactly what he imagined holding you would be and more. Everything in his life had been leading up to this single moment. This moment._

_When you pulled back, Sans was glowing._

…

Sans was glowing.

He gasped, snapping back to reality. His eyes locked onto yours and for some reason they didn’t look so foreign anymore. They were yours. Thinking about you made his soul pound and he could feel a reluctant warmth creeping in between his legs. 

He quickly pulled his arm away from your grasp, gripping his chest. Looking pulling back his shirt, he peered down at his chest to confirm what he already knew: his soul was glowing. 

“what the fuck.” He breathed, interrupting your panicked ranting that he hadn’t even noticed. “what the fuck did you do to me?” Quickly zipping back up his coat, he hunched over, hoping that people passing by would stop looking at him. 

“I-I didn’t…! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you! I’m so sorry, holy shit, I just, I panicked. I didn’t want you to leave.”

He loved it when you rambled.

He violently shook his head. 

He loved _you_.

“no, no, no…” He mumbled, clenching his fists. “what’s going on? i don’t even know you.”

“You…” You paused. “Do you--you saw something, didn’t you? Wh-What happened?”

“why is this happening?” You could feel tears threaten to pour down your cheeks at how scared he looked. “what’s going on?”

He had never felt like this before in his life: the pure love he had in his soul for you was suddenly too much to bear.

“Sans, I--”

“i need to go,” he gasped, taking a step back. “i can’t be here.”

“No, no, please! I’m sorry, I won’t touch you again! Please, just… please just talk to me.”

Violently shaking his head, Sans turned around and shot into a run, teleporting away when he couldn’t stand hearing your voice call after him anymore. 

Clumsily stumbling into his room, he propped himself up against the wall. His chest heaved in and out with panicked breaths, his soul’s steady beat so loud that it blocked out his hearing. His fists closed so tightly he thought he might crush his own hands, he had to slam them into the wall to physically restrain himself from gripping his soul; pressing his fingers into his being and relieving himself of these overwhelming emotions.

What the hell was wrong with him?

What did you do to him?


End file.
